Classical Burmese Poetry is still today one of the lesser-known areas of Buddhist Literature. Among the greatest poets of Burma we find Shin Raṭṭhasāra (1468-1529 C.E.). He was a Burmese Buddhist monk at the court of Ava, closely connected to the royal family and, apparently, an extremely gifted poet since childhood (he grew up in the palace). After a somehow successful intellectual career, he turned for a while to Burmese verse and became a celebrated poet. Some of his poems deal with worldly matters, including sensual love. Others, however, are more in keeping with he Doctrine (buddhasāsana).
Shin Raṭṭhasāra was a Theravadin, he received the scholastic training of his time, which included grammar and poetics. He was a master of Theravada scholastic philosophy. Whereas it is practically impossible to find a single moment of lyrical rapture in the Pali texts of Burma, the situation changes when we move to the vernacular literature. In the 15th and 16th centuries Burmese poetry blossoms and we find the powerful individualities that are generally missing in Pali scholastic works. That does not mean that Buddhist poets were reacting against the scholastic path to "Deliverance". On the contrary: they did not write lyrical poems in Pali out of respect. An example of this is found in one of Raṭṭhasāra's poems, "Deliverance cannot be far distant", translated by Friedrich Lustig (see below). In this poem Raṭṭhasāra describes the ideal of the learned monk. The path of purity is presented as the enduring discipline of the textual scholar. This view is often contested by those who adopt an anti-intellectual position with regard to meditation and spiritual practice. The study of books is criticised as vicarious and borrowed learning, as if it were essentially different from "experience" (whatever that is). A meditator recently told me that we (Buddhist scholars/scholars of Buddhism) organise conferences in order to talk about ideas of others, to discuss the books of those who are missing in the room and have no way to defend themselves. Well, there is certainly a great deal of barren doxography in such meetings, I will not deny that, but the criticism of the anti-intellectual assumes, as it were, that one could think without borrowing and analysing ideas of others (i.e. our predecessors). The truth is that we cannot. Indeed, the old tradition of Theravada Buddhism was also of this opinion: we should first listen, that is to say, we should first learn, and only afterwards we should talk. Raṭṭhasāra's "Deliverance", as Lustig states, "reflects the spirit of scholasticism. However, laying stress on thoroughness as it does, it has a message for our age as well."
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Shin Raṭṭhasāra was a Theravadin, he received the scholastic training of his time, which included grammar and poetics. He was a master of Theravada scholastic philosophy. Whereas it is practically impossible to find a single moment of lyrical rapture in the Pali texts of Burma, the situation changes when we move to the vernacular literature. In the 15th and 16th centuries Burmese poetry blossoms and we find the powerful individualities that are generally missing in Pali scholastic works. That does not mean that Buddhist poets were reacting against the scholastic path to "Deliverance". On the contrary: they did not write lyrical poems in Pali out of respect. An example of this is found in one of Raṭṭhasāra's poems, "Deliverance cannot be far distant", translated by Friedrich Lustig (see below). In this poem Raṭṭhasāra describes the ideal of the learned monk. The path of purity is presented as the enduring discipline of the textual scholar. This view is often contested by those who adopt an anti-intellectual position with regard to meditation and spiritual practice. The study of books is criticised as vicarious and borrowed learning, as if it were essentially different from "experience" (whatever that is). A meditator recently told me that we (Buddhist scholars/scholars of Buddhism) organise conferences in order to talk about ideas of others, to discuss the books of those who are missing in the room and have no way to defend themselves. Well, there is certainly a great deal of barren doxography in such meetings, I will not deny that, but the criticism of the anti-intellectual assumes, as it were, that one could think without borrowing and analysing ideas of others (i.e. our predecessors). The truth is that we cannot. Indeed, the old tradition of Theravada Buddhism was also of this opinion: we should first listen, that is to say, we should first learn, and only afterwards we should talk. Raṭṭhasāra's "Deliverance", as Lustig states, "reflects the spirit of scholasticism. However, laying stress on thoroughness as it does, it has a message for our age as well."
I have found this poem in the book "Burmese Classical Poems. Selected and Translated by The Most. Rev. Friedrich V. Lustig, Buddhist Archbishop of Latvia", edited by Margaret M. Kardell. The translator, Friedrich Lustig, was born in Estonia in 1912. He studied Oriental Languages with Sylvain Levi in Paris, and joined the Buddhist order at eighteen, that is to say, around 1930. By the time of the publication of this book, 1966, Lusting had lived seventeen years in exile in Burma (the reasons of this exile are not mentioned, one understands "Communism" as a reason by default).
Friedrich Lustig was interested in the local culture of Burma and began to translate classical poems. He of course received the valuable help of various Burmese scholars, especially, it seems, a monk called Eindawuntha (Indavamsa). Classical Burmese poetry is a hard nut to crack. All the collaborators are all duly credited in the preface of the book. What follows is Lustig's translation of the original Burmese:
Friedrich Lustig was interested in the local culture of Burma and began to translate classical poems. He of course received the valuable help of various Burmese scholars, especially, it seems, a monk called Eindawuntha (Indavamsa). Classical Burmese poetry is a hard nut to crack. All the collaborators are all duly credited in the preface of the book. What follows is Lustig's translation of the original Burmese:
DELIVERANCE CANNOT BE FAR DISTANT
Listening, thinking, questioning, answering,
Examining, writing, practicing, and memorizing --
Daily these eight disciplines need wearing
As one wears flower garlands.
Constantly, with a spirit of competition and
With diligence, the beginner in fundamental lore
Must practice recitation ... and
If he tries as hard as ever he can
He will become a famous learned man.
If one does not try with the eagerness
Of a daring eagle that firmly catches a hen;
If one does not study and ponder,
does not question and does not discuss, and
If one cannot give a discourse --
Knowing only how to read palm leaves--
How can one become a well-known man of letters?
Like a cat eating a shrimp with special enjoyment
A learner must study all texts -- omitting none--
And he must learn all by heart.
He must become sharp as teeth of a saw.
Penetrating deeply into all discussed matters.
Thus reaching comprehension
Indelible as a stone inscription.
Then when perfect in understanding
He will be ready to say all by heart.
Then on any matter at any public concourse
He will be ready to give a perfect discourse,
To unravel the subject from beginning to end,
Without fear--like a lion--
To stand in the midst of the crowd,
Like a pillar of stone unshaken,
Going over into every detail
And replying to all without fail.
He must be familiar with verses in Pali,
Various forms of address and old difficult words,
He must know the meanings and formations
Of elements, use of metaphors and versification,
Grammatical method and annotation,
And how to reason forwards and backwards.
Then if he knows all this he will have recognition.
He will be celebrated in this life as a man of erudition.
In future rebirths in this samsāra
he will come near Buddha Arya Maitreya.
Then for him not too far distant will be Nirvana.
There are some words which Lustig did not understand, because they are specific to the Pali scholastic discourse. Raṭṭhasāra refers to dhātu-s and paccaya-s, that is to say verbal roots (not "elements") and suffixes, he also refers to scholastic commentaries, ṭīkā-s, which Lustig translates as "annotations" (technically correct, but the reader misses the point). Apart from these minor details, Lustig's translation seems quite good to me. In any case, we have to be grateful for this wonderful rarity. It certainly refutes the vision of those who think that a Buddhist should not think a lot.
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